No Fear
by LovelyRequiem
Summary: Evey and V after she departs from the Shadow Gallery to the end of the story! What happens to our favorite hero and heroine? Movieverse - AU Ending. Chapters 1-8 rated K plus, Chapters 9-10 rated T. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The authoress does not own _V for Vendetta_, V, Evey, _Dune_, or anything else in the story that is the property of someone else, nor is she profiting monetarily from the creation of this story. All quotes are taken from the _V for Vendetta_ IMDB website. The authoress promises to play very gently with Evey and V and put them back on the shelf when she is done.

I must not fear.  
Fear is the mind-killer.  
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.  
I will face my fear.  
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.  
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.  
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.  
Only I will remain.

~ Bene Gesserit litany against fear, Frank Herbert's _Dune_

It was both a blessing and a curse that Evey did not hear the _crash!_ of the mirror shattering as her firm, confident footsteps took her out of his gallery.

It was both a blessing and a curse that she did not hear his sobs – sobs of remorse, shame, self-loathing.

And it was both a blessing and a curse that she did not come running back.

Striding down the sidewalk, Evey felt more fearless than she could ever remember. In her mind, she acknowledged that what V had done was twisted, cruel…and for her own good. She'd give him that one – somewhat resentfully, but she'd give it to him just the same. He had been right and she knew it.

That rightness, and the result of it, was reflected in the way she now carried herself. Before her (his?) little faux-prisoner stint, she had walked the way she suddenly noticed everyone else did – head down, eyes on the pavement, quick hurried steps. Nearly running. Running from the police, running from the spies, running from the tragedy of their everyday lives. But most of all, running from the fear – the fear of capture, of torture, of disappearing. No, not disappearing. Ceasing to exist. Yes, that was it. Every record, every trace of you gone, except in the minds of your loved ones. _Perhaps they should find a way to erase those traces, too, _thought Evey, as she remembered her long-dead family with a prickle of sadness.

No, she would not be sad. She would not be afraid either. She had been both for far too long. The person she had been before entering the Gallery was obliterated and could never be resurrected. Why would she ever want it to? For protection? No, she needed no protection, not from anyone. What should she fear? This government? Hardly. She saw now how weak and pathetic it was, how utterly devoid of any power to do anything to her that had not already been done. Or anything she could not withstand. In either case, the strength to make it through would be courtesy of V.

Pausing to rest on a stone bench, V's words rang in her head once more:

"_You said you wanted to live without fear. I wish there'd been an easier way but there wasn't.…they put you in a cell and took everything they could take except your life, and you believed that was all there was, didn't you? The only thing you had left was your life __**but it wasn't, was it**__? You found something else. In that cell you found something that mattered more to you than life. It was when they threatened to kill you unless you gave them what they wanted. You told them you'd rather die. You faced your death, Evey. You were calm. You were still. Try to feel now what you felt then."_

Evey felt it. Then. Now. Hopefully always. A life without fear. What a wonderful concept! She had no doubt that V's revolution would succeed, and she hoped this life-without-fear would follow in its tumultuous wake. She wanted – needed – the rest of the world to feel the lightness, the exhilaration, the courage, that she felt now. Then again, she supposed a little caution is always necessary, but there is a radical difference between cautious and paralyzed with fear, as the populace now was. And there was a difference between cautious and reckless. There was no need for recklessness, especially not now. If caution makes you disappear in days like this, recklessness would get you slaughtered.

Picking up her bag, Evey again began moving down the sidewalk. She had noticed that her previous manner of walking had attracted attention – it was odd to see someone walking tall – but she made no effort to change. _I will not fear_, she thought, brimming with determination and guile. She had learned a thing or two from V's many disguises and mysterious powers of acquisition; now it was her turn. Before her departure and while V wasn't looking (which was rare), she had managed to borrow some of his technology to devise a whole new identity for herself. She was most pleased with her name – Mercedes Viola Dantes. She felt the name appropriate – "Viola" in a nod to her own past in _Twelfth Night_, "Mercedes" and "Dantes" in a nod to V and his obsession with _The Count of Monte Cristo_. Why not tip her hat a little to the man who gave her a new life?

V. She felt a slight pang of guilt. Had she been too harsh with him? She didn't know. But she absolutely refused to go crawling back to the Gallery; it would do her no good. It was time to establish herself as an independent person. She would keep her promise to dance with him, though. She had grown to enjoy dancing to one of the many songs in the Gallery's jukebox, sometimes alone and sometimes with V as her dance partner.

Arriving at her destination, a hotel to rest for the night, she could not help but feel a wave of apprehension wash through her body. It was only natural, given that she was the second most wanted person in England at the moment. But if she had made it this far without being recognized, she could make it even further.

With a deep breath, she opened the door to the hotel and walked in.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The authoress does not own _V for Vendetta_, V, Evey, or anything else in the story that is the property of someone else, nor is she profiting monetarily from the creation of this story, though she wishes she was because she could certainly use the money (who couldn't?). The authoress promises to play very gently with Evey and V and put them back on the shelf where she found them when she is done.

_Click_! The door shut behind Evey as she dropped her bag on the floor of her hotel room.

In spite of her resolution to never be afraid again, she'd nearly fainted in the lobby – the television behind the receptionist had had her picture plastered all over it, announcing that the government was still – still! – searching for her after all this time. She needn't have worried, though. The receptionist didn't even recognize her and passed her her room key with a warm smile and a pamphlet about the hotel.

This place was highly unusual; Norsefire didn't seem to exist here. Then again, this _was _a hotel frequented by tourists, so naturally the atrocities done in secret on the outside wouldn't appear here. Unlike the rest of London, and probably the whole country, this place was friendly, warm and bright. In the lobby, chandeliers glittered in the ceilings, marble shone on the floors and gold accents and trim were polished to a high shine.

It was almost gaudy.

No matter; it was warm and safe (well, no place was ever really safe when you're a wanted terrorist) and Evey could stay here for a few days while she figured out what to do next. The rumbling in Evey's stomach reminded her of more immediate concerns, however. Padding barefoot across the plush carpeting, she perused the room service menu before placing her order and taking a seat out on the balcony to await its arrival.

The London skyline held so much potential, so much promise. It was a shame it didn't live up to it, not under Norsefire anyway. Many of the twinkling lights Evey remembered on the buildings from her childhood had been extinguished and the city was dark – "for the citizens' safety." (Safety from what? The Old Bailey had already been blown sky-high and that didn't require any lights at all.)

Supper finished and luxurious bubble bath taken, Evey curled into the equally luxurious bed with its satin sheets and down comforter and flipped on the television. Once again, she was the evening's star story. Listening, she couldn't help but laugh at the incredible stories the poor anchor (the one whose blinking always gave away the fact that she was lying) wove about her. The government was either quite desperate or quite stupid; News Story Evey was approximately five inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than Real Life Evey. News Story Evey was also fluent in four foreign languages (Russian, French, German, and Italian), had several aliases (Jasmin Winters, Ashley Jackson, Mary Smith and Lillian Vaughn) and held false passports from several European countries (Belgium, Russia, Italy, and Poland). Pictures of her in various hair colors also flashed across the screen, but nobody had thought to include a picture of her nearly bald. Perhaps she'd keep this hair awhile, then.

Evey's thoughts drifted back to V. She almost felt bad about leaving him, but she couldn't have stayed there. She hoped he wasn't in terrible shape, but knowing his penchant for the dramatic, his tendency toward self-loathing, and his concern for Evey's safety, he was likely pacing the Gallery and driving himself mad with regret and any number of other dark emotions. She wouldn't be a bit shocked if he had found a way to follow her here tonight and kept watch outside her hotel room. Heaven knew there were enough shadows that he could take refuge in.

Clicking off the television cast the room into those same shadows. Evey left her balcony door open; the cool breeze was lovely and the noise from the city welcome. It was to this lullaby that she drifted into sleep. Tomorrow, she would get to work searching for employment and a place to live.

Actually, Evey wasn't quite so far off when she mused about V hiding in the shadows outside the hotel. He'd managed to pull himself together long enough to find and follow her. She wanted nothing to do with him; he understood that. However, he would still keep watch from the shadows, a silent guardian, making sure she was safe. That duty started this night. It was the least he could do for the way he treated her. He counted it as a kind of penance.

Though he sorely wished to jump up to her room and beg her forgiveness, he knew that would not be an acceptable course of action. No, she must stand on her own two feet now. He hoped she had the tools to do so. He also hoped she had gotten some of those tools from him. V saw that as selfish, though he'd never admit it to anyone.

It certainly seemed as though she hadn't been recognized and was therefore safe, but he couldn't be sure and that was simply unacceptable. So he watched. Watched and waited and kept guard, an invisible knight in shadowy armor.


	3. Chapter 3

**My thanks to firefly, Xavier Edgar and Desistam21 for their kind reviews! I am glad you like the story thus far and I hope this chapter does not disappoint. **

Disclaimer: The authoress does not own V, Evey, or anything else in the story that is the property of someone else, nor is she profiting monetarily from the creation of this story, although she certainly would like to because college doesn't pay for itself. The authoress promises to play very gently with Evey and V and put them back where she found them when she is done with no permanent damage. Any similarities to other stories on this site or any other are pure coincidence. Please contact me with further questions or problems.

Weeks passed as Evey settled in to her new life. She found a charming little apartment on the outskirts of the city and a low-profile job in which she had little contact with people. She thought it best that she try to fly under the radar as long as possible. After all, the hotel receptionist hadn't recognized her, but that didn't mean someone else wouldn't. Her bills were paid, she had a steady source of income and she was as comfortable as she could be, considering she was a fugitive from easily the most frightening government in anyone's knowledge or memory.

Life was going well. Simple, but well.

Still, V was never far from Evey's thoughts. Most of what she knew in order to survive she had learned from him in her time in the Shadow Gallery. V really was quite brilliant, and it never hurt anyone, least of all Evey, to learn a new trick or two. Perhaps the most useful thing she had learned was the sometimes-necessary acquisition of money and items through not-quite-illegal-but-definitely-frowned-upon means. (Okay, some of those means _were_ illegal but Evey was already a branded and wanted criminal, so why shouldn't she take advantage of her situation in every way she could? And anyway, if she was caught by the authorities for these minor illegalities, her situation couldn't possibly get any worse.)

The most difficult things to adjust to were the silence and the loneliness. Evey had absolutely no idea how V stood it without going completely mad (well…perhaps he _did_ go completely mad, on second thought…). That must have been why the jukebox or the television was always on and why V frequently beheaded that knight. Maybe that was even a reason why V had originally forbidden her to leave, not just for her own safety, though he would never admit it. Noise to drown out the silence. Company to drown out the loneliness. Evey considered adopting a pet of some type, though she decided against it, as it was one more thing she needed to worry about and one more thing that could expose her. Truth be told, yes, the loneliness was a trial, but she had to admit she was nearly used it. She didn't exactly want for anything besides company.

Yes, indeed, life was going well, all things considered.

And, if truth be told, it was dull. Agonizingly dull. One day blended into the next with little to distinguish Sunday from Monday from Tuesday. Evey craved excitement, though she could do without the excitement of running from the law in Jordan Tower. She'd had quite enough of _that _brand of excitement, thank you. (When viewed from that angle, perhaps "excitement" was not the right word; perhaps "entertainment" or at least "less bored" was a better angle.) But there just _had_ to be _some_ kind of _something_ _somewhere_ to break the monotony. Evey dearly missed the mind-boggling collection of books that lined her Gallery bedroom. What she wouldn't give to have those stacks of books now. Alas, there were no books to be had in Norsefire's England.

Frustratingly, the only thing to distinguish one day from the next was which news anchor spilled Norsefire propaganda and vitriol under threat of imprisonment (or worse) on the daily newscast. V and his accomplice Evey were still favorite topics. Evey hated to watch those stories, but it was her only connection to the outside world – and V.

She would never admit it to anyone, but she missed him.

V really didn't have it much easier. Certainly being alone in his Gallery was nothing new; it hadn't been new for nearly 20 years. But Evey's presence and her bright and cheerful nature in spite of her (justified) mistrust of him had provided a welcome and long-overdue change in V's home. _Not even the rug on the floor had changed for nearly that long_, V thought sourly.

But he didn't have time to be sour. He had too much to do keeping tabs on Party spies, tracking Norsefire officials and, of course, watching over Evey.

As far as he could tell, Evey was doing just fine. She was safe in her new home and her new job would suit her new persona well, even though it did little for her mind or her talents. He guessed she was having a rough time with her solitary existence, though he knew from his own experience that was something that could be adjusted to. That, and she had adjusted to it just fine in her mock prison cell.

V cringed at the memory. He would hate himself for that until the day he died (which, judging by his plans wouldn't be all that far away) but he would never apologize. It had to be done, and that was just that. Necessary evils, ends justifying the means…all of that and more. It was, truly, done with good intentions and for Evey's own good. He had never been motivated by malice. V hoped that she would one day see that, though he knew that day might not come until it was too late for him to see it.

Sighing, V turned back to his computer screen. He had no time to dwell on the unfortunates and tragedies of his death now, even though the only real tragedy was, in his opinion, that he wouldn't be able to watch Evey grow in the wake of his revolution. Even though all of London knew of his existence, they would not mourn his death. Why should they? They didn't know him personally. Instead, they would immortalize him as a hero. V occasionally caught himself hoping Evey would miss him, the real him, but always quickly dismissed the thought. She thought him a madman and that was unlikely to change.

Before, V managed to make his days at least somewhat fulfilling with his books and such. Now, that fulfillment was gone. Most of his days were spent at his computer; the rest of the time, he spent monitoring the news stations and wondering if Evey saw the same things he did. As ever, the television was the only thing that kept him from total isolation. It was also the only thing that seemed to keep Evey near.

He missed her. Oh, how he missed her! Life with her in the Gallery just wasn't the same and never would be again (_although he wouldn't have much longer for that, either, _he thought dismally). He ached to see her again, to see her waltzing through the Gallery to the tune of whatever happened to be playing from the jukebox, occasionally even singing (usually off-key) the words of an almost-forgotten childhood song. He longed for her questions, questions of every imaginable subject, to which he would give every imaginable answer. He reveled in her newly-rekindled love of Shakespeare and they spent many an hour arguing the finer points of the Bard's plays. Evey was truly a closeted intellectual. Had she been born in another place or time, she could have easily become a foremost scholar on the subject. Her keen mind even thought up things about the plays that even V could not have ever dreamed of (and he fancied himself quite the Shakespeare expert).

Why, why, oh why must he think of her tonight? He was never keen on dredging up the tempest of emotions when it came to her, but especially not now. She had left the Gallery four months ago tonight. Four long months. V simultaneously wished for the next November 5th to be here and dreaded its coming. The idea of Evey returning to him filled him with both excitement and dread. He couldn't bear the thought that she wouldn't come back, but couldn't ignore the very real possibility that she might not. He might spend the last night of his life alone, without the woman he had come to care so deeply for.

A half-suppressed sob of grief wrenched itself free from behind the mask. Its intensity surprised V. His nemesis Grief had not visited him since those days in Larkhill and its return was not welcomed in the least. V hoped its stay would not be permanent.

For the first time in over a decade, V tried to imagine what his life would be like if he was a normal man. The subject was so complicated it made his head spin. Such imaginings were very nearly the only things that could disturb and unnerve him. There was little point to his musings, besides. The Creator had a monster child and that child was soon to rise up in rebellion.

But the thoughts persisted. Certainly V would not have the kind of relationship he had with Evey now, but would he even have one with her at all and if so, what would it look like? He was significantly older than her, so a romantic relationship seemed unlikely (but perhaps that idea was due to his current circumstances), so perhaps they would be coworkers, neighbors, friends – or strangers…?

Even more so than that, V wondered what _he_ might be like. V had gotten used to no longer remembering a single thing about his past and it didn't bother him anymore, except on nights like tonight. Who he was, where he came from, why he was arrested – those things were gone. He didn't even know enough to hack Norsefire's records to look and if he did, would he even want to? What benefit could that possibly have?

Enough of this. These musings brought him no joy, and certainly not tonight. He had no need of them, now or ever.

Decisively, V snapped off his computer and stood. A walk in the night would do him good and besides, he needed to check on a door in a nearby tunnel he thought may be compromised. It simply wouldn't do for someone to stumble upon his lair. He strode to the door where his hat, cloak and knives sat, patiently waiting for their master to notice them. Dressing quickly, he decided a brief pass by Evey's apartment wouldn't hurt. No doubt she was safe, but he wanted to be sure. His path through the back alleys and shadows of the city was unlikely to be noticed, and anyway most Londoners would be snuggled inside on this cool, damp, moonless night.

With a final glance around his home and a knife flourish he just couldn't resist partaking in, V slipped into the tunnels toward the city.

**Authoress's notes**: I am not very familiar with the geography of London so any mistakes from here on out are honest and I would very much welcome (gentle) correction.

Also, I am completely baffled as to why the lines and extra spaces I am placing in the story to note different sections are not showing up. They're in my Word document but not here. If anyone could offer some assistance on how to fix this, I would appreciate it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** The authoress does not own V, Evey or anything else that is the property of someone else. She is not profiting monetarily from the creation of this story. Any similarity to any store on this site or any other is pure coincidence. Please contact me with any issues. The authoress promises to be very careful with Evey and V and return them to their habitats with no lasting trauma, mental or otherwise, although in this chapter Evey will have a few bumps and bruises.

**My everlasting thanks to firefly and Krystal Jaymes for their kind reviews and to Krystal Jaymes for assistance with formatting and the encouragement! You two are awesome! **

***Authoress's note*********:** I'm doing a little tweaking with the order of events from the movie in this chapter, so please be aware of that as you read. I am sorry if this creates any confusion. Please do not hesitate to ask if you need clarification. Also, it has come to my attention that my line breaks show up in some browsers but not in others. I've tried to fix this but for me, it still doesn't work. If it doesn't work for you, I am truly sorry and I have no idea what else to do to fix that. Suggestions are welcome.

* * *

Solace.

Sweet solace.

That's what Evey needed right now. The events of today had been utterly draining.

The riots originating in Brixton had spread to London. The first one had broken out today and she had been caught in it. Mind you, she was not a rioter. She was just an innocent bystander who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. (An innocent bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time…that was the story of Evey's life, wasn't it? Caught by the Fingermen, rescued by V, named his accomplice and now the riot. Perhaps she should just stay inside – or commit herself to a nunnery.)

Even though she had not been pursued, Evey had no idea if she had been recognized by the inordinate amount of police wielding inordinate amounts of weapons. Granted, this _had_ been a riot but she thought the amount of firepower that had been called in – _tanks_, for God's sake – was ridiculous considering the size of the crowd. Evey didn't know it yet, but the comparatively tiny crowd today was just a warm-up to the chaos soon to envelop the city. Norsefire's reaction would be even more extreme in the days to come.

Evey couldn't believe it was already 10:30 P.M. Usually she would turn on the news and listen to the poor anchor enlighten the populace on the latest fabricated catastrophe, Norsefire's equally fabricated response and the unceasing made-up dribble about V and his accomplice Evey Hammond before curling up for what was may or may not be a restful night's sleep.

Heaving a sigh, Evey threw herself onto her red, fluffy couch with a satisfying flop. The riot had caught her completely by surprise. She had stepped out hours earlier for what she had intended to be a quick grocery run (okay, and perhaps a little window shopping) before finishing some work for her meeting tomorrow. She wasn't sure if she was looking forward to the meeting or not. On one hand, it was a chance for human interaction, which she was greatly starved for. On the other, she would be grossly exposed and had no hope of escaping an unfamiliar building. (Perhaps she should find a way to rectify that unfamiliarity after hours. She should have asked V to teach her how to get in, out and through buildings undetected. Good heavens! One more skill of his she'd never thought she'd need.)

Evey had been filled with a sense of foreboding all day; she thought it was due to tomorrow. On her way to the market, she had seen a news story linking V to the St. Mary's attack, which hadn't helped her mood at all. She was certain she'd be linked to it next, and that upset her because it only reminded her of her brother's suffering and death.

Seeing the picket line being harassed by police should have been her signal to take another way home. Evey could just kick herself for not being a little smarter. She'd thought that giving them a wide berth would be adequate, but it had not. Once a protestor had shoved a police officer, the fight was on. That shove had been the spark that lit the powder keg that blew to smithereens right in front of Evey. From the protestors' side, punches were thrown and kicks delivered. From the police's side, even stun guns and tear gas hadn't stopped them. That was why the guns and tanks were called in.

Somewhere in the ruckus, Evey had been slammed to the ground (she still wasn't quite sure how). Unable to get up, she had been kicked, stepped on, tripped over and hit with flying (falling?) objects (whose nature Evey did not care to know, judging by the stains on her clothes). Finally, after what seemed to be forever, she was able to struggle her way off the ground and shove the masses aside (knocking a few people over herself, which she was infinitely sorry for – maybe) as she ran. Unfortunately, she was too late in escaping to avoid the tear gas – her eyes still watered, her throat still burned and her cough was unceasing. (What on Earth had been in that tear gas, anyway? Was that even normal tear gas or some diabolical new Norsefire weapon that she had just served as a guinea pig for?) She was covered in scratches and bruises, full of aches and pains and there was a goose egg forming on the side of her head. Ugh. She must look a fright. (It seemed frivolous to care about her looks, given her wounds and her ever-vigilant flight from the authorities, but somehow Evey didn't really care at the moment.)

Evey came back to herself with the sting of the hot water running over her wounds. The shower felt wonderful after the chaos and anxiety of the day and the pain, for reasons unknown, helped Evey gather her thoughts and calm her emotions. She even hummed a little tune as she dressed in her pajamas and bandaged what cuts and scrapes she could.

Suddenly, Evey froze. A small _thump!_ from outside her window was enough to send what she could only describe as a paralyzing fear through her body (quite a justified action, given the riot). Then – _shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhht!_ That awful scraping sound nearly sent her out the door and over the fire escape, blinded by fear as every cell of her body screamed at her to run.

Quiet.

For several agonizing seconds, Evey couldn't move. She was fixed in her current position, still dripping wet, shivering and half-bandaged. Finally, she took one tiny step toward the window, followed by another…and another…and another…until she found herself in front of that window, hand on the latch. With a deep breath, preparing for the worst (whatever that could be), she opened the latch and leaned out, only to find…

…a box?

_A box_? She had been _that_ afraid over _a box_?

How silly.

But then again…what was in that box?

It could have just blown there on the wind, but given its current position, that was highly unlikely.

It could be a bomb designed to blow her sky high, but who on Earth would it have come from? Did someone know who she was? Surely her demise would come in the form of a black bag and not a brown box.

Or…it could be another harmless prank from that stupid teenage boy three apartments down. (God, she hated that boy!) She would almost bet that in that case, that box had a rubber snake in it. (What a twit!)

Well, the only way to find out was to open it up. Leaning precariously over her windowsill (how embarrassing it would be to fall out headfirst!), Evey retrieved the box, closed the window and the curtains and padded to her living room. Plunking the box onto the coffee table with a suspicious glare and another satisfying flop onto the couch, she opened her newfound…whatever it was. Gift?

Inside, she found a copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ wrapped in plastic (mustn't ruin it with the rain!) and a bouquet of fresh flowers – daffodils and yellow roses. Enclosed was a note in a flowing, old-fashioned-looking, elegant script that simply read "_EV_."

There was only one person special package could have come from. Evey had to admit she was delighted. The movie was special, but the flowers even more so because Evey knew their meaning: daffodils for uncertainty, chivalry and respect, and yellow roses for apology and friendship.

Perhaps V was trying to bribe her into coming to the Gallery soon, though it seemed unlikely given his gallant nature with her. Surely he knew she would keep her word, although her actions with the Bishop might make him think twice. More likely, this gift was a symbol of peace, an olive branch, a white flag. It asked its recipient for a truce.

* * *

V watched from his shadowy corner below as Evey retrieved his package. He had seen her nearly trampled alive in the riots today (he may or may not have been following her…) and thought it would be worth the risk of rejection to try and lift her spirits and calm her shattered nerves (or maybe it was _his_ nerves that were shattered). Now he was questioning that decision. In a rare moment of impatience, he kicked the wall as he waited for something, _anything_, that would signal a response from her. What was taking so long? Surely it doesn't take this long to open a box.

Sighing, he resigned himself to the fact that she did not want his gift – or him – and sullenly kicked the wall once more for good measure. The wait made him uncharacteristically cranky. Just as he turned to go, a crack in the curtains appeared in Evey's window. A vase full of flowers – _his _flowers – appeared in the window. The flicking backlight from the slightly opened curtains cast dancing shadows on them, and V just _had_ to look and make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Creeping from shadow to shadow, he made his way closer and closer to her window. Finally, _finally_, he was close enough to see that they were indeed his flowers – and that she had settled herself on the couch with his beloved Count.

Truce granted.

**Authoress's note part two:** The meaning of the flowers was taken from Wikipedia's article entitled "Language of Flowers." Yes, I know, Wikipedia isn't the most reliable source, but this isn't exactly a scholarly paper so I figured I could get away with it.

Also, it's always bothered me how Evey was able to watch that movie. I don't believe Norsefire would have shown it. Evey doesn't seem like the type to steal it from V, and I don't think she would have taken it as a gift when she left the Gallery, given her attitude toward Valerie's letter and pretty much anything to do with V at that time. So that leaves the idea that V would give it to her. Naturally, he would also give her something to assure her it wasn't a trap from the authorities, hence the flowers. I suppose Evey could have gotten the movie on the black market somehow, but that wouldn't really do anything to highlight our characters' emotions and attitudes toward each other, now, would it?


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: The authoress does not own V, Evey, _V for Vendetta_, or anything else that is the property of someone else. Any similarity to any other story on this site or any other is pure coincidence. Please contact me with any issues. The authoress is in no way profiting monetarily from the creation of this story, although she would certainly like to because there is a shiny new car for sale she would very much like to have. The lines from the movie included in this chapter are transcribed from the movie itself and are NOT the property or creation of the authoress. The authoress promises to play somewhat gently with V and Evey and put them back in the box with no lasting harm, although this chapter looks to be a bit angsty and introspective for them.

**My thanks to Krystal Jaymes for the feedback, and I will try to talk V into giving you a present, though I make no promises :smile:**

For V, this certainly was a night of uncharacteristics. First, he had given that box to Evey, something he had sworn he wouldn't do. Second, he had included the flowers in said box. Third, he had gotten closer to her (and her window) than he vowed he ever would. Fourth, the appearance of his blooms in the window and his movie on the television screen made him feel…_giddy_, of all things. He had seen images in old television shows and movies of the protagonists jumping up and clicking their heels together in a moment of joy, and that was the action he felt like taking at the moment.

How ridiculous! He should not feel this way! Her acceptance of the gift was no more than a polite gesture and his urge to heel click was patently, terribly undignified. He may be many things to many people – a savior, a rebel, a madman, a terrorist, a beacon of hope – but the one thing he was NOT was undignified.

Instead, he slipped from shadow to shadow through the dark London streets. Home should have been his destination, as he could not afford to be out much more this night, but he still had unfinished business. That snake Creedy would not be expecting him, nor the proposition V would lay out. For the last time, he checked to make sure he had what he needed – chalk, music recording, and knife (though he never left home without the knife – or several).

V was positive Creedy would accept his bargain; a drowning man never refused a life ring, not if he was smart, anyway, which Creedy was. The idea of this deal – himself for Sutler – in another time would have filled him with a kind of anticipatory joy. It was one more means to the end of this sick and twisted government and avenge the wrongs done to him – and to Valerie. And to countless others who fell victim to Norsefire. Not tonight, however; tonight it only filled him with dread and a mildly ill feeling. But why?

"_What was done to me was monstrous."_

"_Then they created a monster."_

Those words sent a jolt through him.

Evey.

This proposition all but sealed the fact that he would be…leaving her. For the first time in what V remembered of his life, he dreaded his inevitable death, would have fought it tooth and nail if he could. On the list of things he would never admit (that list was growing quite long…), he had to add the knowledge that he cared very deeply for one Miss Evey Hammond. And that was as far as he would go with that thought. Evey hated him, thought him a monstrous lunatic, and that would never change.

His care made him angry. _She_ made him angry. She, whom he had stumbled across one night and inadvertently tangled up in his plans. She, who had resisted his efforts to protect her causing herself (and him!) significant danger (and consternation!) in the process. She, who with mere smiles, countless conversations and more than one temper tantrum, had nearly taken a wrecking ball to his plans and leveled his resolve. _She made him angry._

Or was he merely angry with himself for allowing himself to be taken in?

No matter. Anger was good. Anger was what fed him through the horrors of Larkhill. It was his food and drink for nearly twenty years, and it was what he needed when he met that insipid Creedy.

V would stay angry if it meant he could accomplish his goal of showing Creedy what Creedy should have already known to be true. V would stay angry, then – at least until he returned home.

If Evey was right, and he saw the world like an equation, love could only be a minus.

* * *

"_May we come up?"_

"_You find your own tree!"_

The closing lines of the movie saddened Evey. She had watched the film twice in a row now, and could not help but think of the man who loved those lines so, and had wanted her to love them as well.

How much of his pride had he had to swallow to deliver this package to her? How much of a risk did he take? And should he even have done that? Never in her wildest dreams had she thought he would contact her. She genuinely believed he would leave her to her own devices. Reconciling his apparent actions with what she thought he would do was, for some reason, nearly impossible.

Or perhaps not. He was, after all, a human just like her and surely he, too, struggled with the lack of human interaction. A television set was a poor substitute for a conversation; she knew that well. And she knew that in some strange way, he craved her forgiveness, though he himself would never directly ask for it or apologize for his actions. His methods were a bit more roundabout and symbolic – and dramatic – as exemplified by the Old Bailey's destruction and his Scarlet Carsons.

Thinking about V always saddened Evey, but it was especially disheartening to think about him tonight. She felt, well, off-kilter due to the events of the day and she wished he was there to discuss poetry with her, pop in a movie (and recite every line along with the actors) or even just sit quietly nearby tinkering with one thing or another as she buried her nose into another book.

Why did she crave the company of a raving lunatic, a madman, a near-total stranger? Could Evey truthfully say anymore that he was a stranger? She had spent a considerable amount of time in his subterranean home watching, listening, learning as he went about his (dubious and shadowy) business and she had found herself lonely and worried for his safety whenever he disappeared for hours at a time (which he often did). This worry was compounded toward the end of her escape to Gordon's house, as he frequently returned with injuries that needed treating (which he never let her help with) and a mind that seemed increasingly addled. She hadn't exactly been afraid of him, though her growing discomfort and her horror at Prothero's death had been a deciding factor in fleeing. Her offer to help and the situation at the Abbey was just a cover, a chance at escape. She did, however, appreciate finally being able to tell someone her own history and know that they would understand.

An idea skittered across her mind. She wondered now if his injuries and seeming madness was all an act he put on so he could get her into that "prison" and try to teach her to live without fear. At that point she had already thought him insane, so what did he have to lose? Positively nothing.

_A fine act it had been all the way around_, _then_ she thought.

She was cross now, in addition to feeling off-kilter. Acknowledging emotions was something she was terrible at, though perhaps she had taught herself to be terrible so as not to feel the horror of the world around her.

First emotion. She missed V, had missed him for quite some time. It wasn't the type of missing that caused you to run back to someone, though. It was the type of missing you felt for someone you knew you might never see again, or if you saw them, you knew it wouldn't be the same. So, a bit of grief, then? Loss, perhaps? What else?

Love?

No, no, no. Absolutely impossible. Not love, never love. She had lost too many people because she loved them and her love had caused them to leave (said the part of Evey's mind that was still twelve) and she could not possibly, evereverever, feel that way about V.

Okay, fine. She cared about him. Yes, that's what she would say. She cared about him. The fact that you don't nearly kiss people that you merely care about when you leave their home was a fact Evey would choose to conveniently overlook at this time.

_But why had she felt the urge to kiss him? And what had stopped her?_

Infuriating. That's what this line of thought was – absolutely infuriating. And she refused to think on it any more as she crawled into bed and tried with all her might to silence her noisy brain.

Sleep did not come easily that night. Her dreams were full of Scarlet Carsons, Shadow Galleries and V.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** The authoress does not own V, Evey, _V for Vendetta_, or anything else presented in the story that is the property of someone else. The authoress is also not profiting monetarily from the creation of this story. Any similarity to any story posted on this site or any other is pure coincidence. Contact me if an issue should arise. The authoress promises to clean up Evey and V and return them to the box where she found them when she is done playing with them.

**As always, my everlasting thanks to Krystal Jaymes and Rosethorn for the reviews!**

**Authoress's note:** Here again, I am playing fast and loose with the order of some of the events presented in the movie, so keep that in mind as you read. I am sorry if this creates any confusion. Please do not hesitate to ask if you have any questions or need clarification.

* * *

Three months passed with no more word (or boxes) from V. Evey couldn't say her life changed much in those three months, which she supposed was a good thing. It meant that at least she hadn't been identified by the authorities and dragged off to what surely would have been one of Creedy's prison cells. Though Evey hated to dwell on the memory, she wondered how her time in one of those cells would be now that she had been subjected to one of V's cells. Surely it could have been no worse than anything V dreamed up and surely there was nothing she could not withstand thanks to V.

Still, she was much more cautious after being caught in the riot; she could not risk being exposed and helpless like that again. Now, her trips outside were less frequent and she was careful to stock up on what she needed when she did leave, in case she was forced to stay inside for weeks at a time (which was becoming common). The crowds were more volatile, the riots more violent and the police more brutal. Just yesterday, nearly a hundred people had been hospitalized in the latest melee. The world seemed as though it was coming to an end (which it was, if V's plan was on schedule).

There was no reason for Evey to go outside today. She had need of nothing, having been to the grocer's a mere three days ago, and spent little time shopping for frivolities anymore. No, there was no need to leave home, except for the fact that Evey was restless. She could not be still and her mind was working over anything and everything that crossed it. She was nervous and on edge; every little noise made her jump. Finally, after nearly a full day of banging around her apartment, slamming pots and pans together in a (failed) attempt to make something to eat, a little growling at her finicky stove and more than a little swearing at her obnoxious television, Evey decided she simply _had_ to get out, even for just a little while. A trip to the corner market for a chocolate bar sounded quite nice. Besides, she would absolutely lose her mind if her neighbor's radio screeched one more time.

The streets were surprisingly empty; a riot seemed unlikely today, though one could never tell. Few people left their homes anymore unless they absolutely had to (or were rioting, of course), and it was not yet time for the going-home rush. Evey had to admit it would have been nice to not be bumped into in the street or shoved aside in the market if it wasn't for the current reason for their emptiness.

Naturally the market would have only _one _checkstand open and naturally Evey _would_ get behind the _only_ person in creation intent on walking out with what appeared to be about 12 bags of groceries. (Exactly how did they plan to carry all of that?) This was a small corner market meant for those convenience purchases, not grocery shopping for six!

Evey's annoyance turned to panic when she saw a tall redhead get in line behind her.

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth as in BTN Elizabeth.

Elizabeth as in BTN Elizabeth, whom Evey went to lunch with every Tuesday and Thursday.

Elizabeth as in BTN Elizabeth, whom Evey went to lunch with every Tuesday and Thursday, who no doubt would recognize her now, tackle her and call for the police, who would then black bag her, shove her in a vehicle and carry her straight to Creedy.

Evey froze. Her brain demanded that she run but she could not make her muscles comply.

"Is that chocolate bar good?" a voice asked.

Evey jumped and squashed the urge to drop the chocolate bar and run.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you. I've just never seen that candy here before and I wondered if you like it."

Elizabeth was speaking to her. Perhaps she should speak back…?

"Oh, um, yes. Um, it's quite alright. Uh, yes, actually, I have tried this chocolate before. It's, um, it-it's my favorite," Evey replied, voice and body shaking. She prayed Elizabeth did not ask her what was in that chocolate bar, because for the life of her Evey couldn't have told her right now.

"Miss? If that'll be all, your total will be £1.30," the cashier told Evey.

Evey fumbled in her bag for her money and only succeeded in dropping it all over the floor. Elizabeth helped her pick it up before saying, "Here. You should be more careful. Sutler doesn't like to see money with his face on it on the ground where people can trample on it."

Unsure if Elizabeth was teasing, Evey managed a weak smile and returned, "No, I don't suppose he does. Enjoy your day, and you really should try this chocolate bar sometime. The roasted almonds are a nice touch."

The cashier handed Evey her change and Evey forced herself to be calm as she exited the store. To run home full tilt right now would only attract more unwanted attention. She would never be able to sit easy in her apartment now.

In hopes of calming herself down – and dreading that shrieking radio – she decided to take a roundabout way home. She was nearly back to her apartment when she heard a _hsssst, hssssssssssssssssssst_ coming from behind a building. Curious, she rounded the corner to discover a young girl in Coke-bottle glasses spraypainting V's symbol on one of Norsefire's, "STRENGTH THROUGH UNITY, UNITY THROUGH FAITH" signs in an appropriate shade of V red. When the little girl saw Evey, she started and dashed around the corner, dropping her can of spraypaint as she went.

It seemed V's revolutionary spirit was catching on even better than he had hoped.

* * *

With the wheels and cogs of V's plan spinning merrily along, he really had nothing to do for the next few weeks. There were no Norsefire officials to threaten, no buildings to destroy and no damsels in distress to rescue. Really, V quite literally had _nothing_ to do. Evey wasn't leaving her apartment much nowadays, which was probably a good idea (though he would _always_ see to it that she was safe, even if she stumbled upon his latest trap intended for Norsefire). He was assured she was out of harm's way for now and saw no need to guard (watch? stalk?) her apartment building.

V was quite unused to having nothing to do. For 20 years he had been busy, busy, busy with one task or another. He hardly knew what to do with himself and was unusually restless. His body needed something to do as well as his mind. Surely there was something in the Gallery he could build, or fix, or tinker with, or just tear apart and put back together again – better this time.

Come to think of it, there _were_ several boxes V had recently reclaimed from the vaults of the Ministry of Objectionable Materials that he hadn't gone through yet. Perhaps doing so would turn up something interesting….

Well, V was partially right. It seemed as though somehow the boxes from a recently-seized house had gotten mixed in with the boxes intended for the vaults. Three of the boxes were someone's possessions – former possessions. V would leave them be; there was no need to violate this person's privacy, even if they no longer existed. The fourth box was unusually small and contained six movies V had never seen before - apparently a futuristic saga called _Star Wars_. Those seemed fascinating, but he would put them aside for now. The fifth box captured most of his attention. It contained cases and cases of red and black dominos. Though he had no one to play the traditional dominoes game with (what he wouldn't give to teach Evey!), he had heard of people building elaborate setups – and then knocking them down. To V, that seemed rather pointless, but it could prove suitably entertaining for the moment. Now…what to design in dominos?

Rather, what would _Evey_ design in the dominos?

Would it be too vain and selfish to hope she would design _him_?

Well…maybe.

But he would do it anyway.

**Authoress's Note:** I am a rabid _Star Wars_ fangirl (Team Edward got nuthin' on me!), so I thought my favorite saga deserved a nod. I would like to imagine that V would like it too, although he'd probably critique every scene and would therefore make a terrible movie-watching partner. :grin:


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** The authoress does not own V, Evey, _V for Vendetta_, or anything else that is the property of someone else. She is not profiting monetarily from the creation of this story. Any similarity to any story posted on this site or any other is pure coincidence. Contact me if an issue should arise.

**My eternal thanks to Krystal Jaymes, Rosethorn and the anonymous guest for their kind reviews!**

**Authoress's Note**: As a reminder, the events of this chapter may not necessarily follow the same order as in the movie. I am sorry if this creates any confusion. I will be happy to clarify if you need it.

* * *

(Four days later)

It took V much longer than he expected to set up the dominos. Such a delicate process! In spite of his inhumanly steady hand and extraordinary patience, he was forced to restart his work several times after being uncharacteristically clumsy and knocking over a single domino that ended up destroying what he had accomplished.

A single domino.

How symbolic.

Could he be the single domino that destroyed Norsefire? He certainly hoped so. The government, in spite of its setup and structure, was surprisingly delicate – like this domino sculpture. It only took one to destroy it all. Or rather, to be more precise (precision was _always_ the key), it took the one domino to start the chain reaction that ultimately demolished the piece. Better – he would be the single domino that _started _the whole thing, but the masses would be the ones who finished it.

Truly, that thought gave new meaning to the phrase "domino effect."

V started to laugh at that last thought. He didn't know why; it really wasn't very funny. Perhaps it was just the tension of his plans racing to completion or the anticipation of Evey's return – or the lack of it. _That_ was certainly grating on his nerves.

Those dominos…laid out like that, they really were a thing of beauty – art, even. He almost hated to knock them down, especially since he had put so much effort into getting them just right. But then again, that _was_ a part of why he'd set them up. (The activity _still_ seemed rather pointless to V…)

Ultimately, V decided to enjoy their beauty for a day or two before demolishing them. He had revolution business to attend to.

* * *

(Two days later)

Evey breathed a sigh of relief as she rounded the corner. It had been quite a busy day and she was glad to be almost back at her apartment.

Her apartment. That's how she referred to it. Strangely, it still wasn't "home" to her and she didn't think it ever would be. Home was V's Shadow Gallery. And that was where she wanted to be.

Oh, sure, the apartment was nice enough and had provided a convenient place to hide these past few months. But it wasn't the same as being with V and it never had been.

Evey intended to keep her promise. She would go back to the Gallery, but she wanted to wait until November 4th to see V. She wanted to watch him carry out his revolution plans. Maybe he'd even let her take part in one of them, although one could make the argument that she had already. She'd certainly been there for the beginning of it, so why not be there for its climax, too? She had no idea what he was planning, but she hoped he'd welcome her back to the Gallery in the future, perhaps permanently. If he would, Evey didn't think she'd ever leave; she had all she could ever want there.

Evey dug in her bag for her keys as she climbed the stairs (and nearly tripped over her own feet in the process). She found them just as she reached the top of the landing. Her eyebrow went up almost of its own accord as she saw the boxes outside every door on her floor. Strange. Peering over the railing, she saw that the floor below hers had a box at every door, too, as did the floor above. Even more strange. What could possibly be in there? Surely V hadn't sent movies and flowers to every household in London (although it wouldn't surprise her if he had).

The box was surprisingly heavy, so Evey was forced to drag it along the floor and into the living room. What on Earth was in there?

Hunger and discomfort overtook Evey's curiosity and she decided the box could wait until after a meal and her pajamas. Those tasks accomplished, she turned her attention to the box. It was taped up rather well and required a sharp knife to cut open.

Nothing could have braced Evey for the shock she felt when she opened the box.

Inside was a V costume, head to toe with mask included, in just her size. And resting next to the mask was a five-petaled purple flower she could not identify.

No doubt this was what her neighbors received as well, although she could not possibly imagine that their boxes also contained flowers. Evey could well guess the sender, but was completely baffled as to the flower. A quick Internet search provided a clue.

_Lychnis viscaria_. Invitation to dance.

Evey still didn't understand, but she knew that she would soon enough.

* * *

V could just kick himself for including that flower in Evey's box. It was a pointless exercise (those did seem to be his specialty lately) and he could only imagine how silly, pathetic and desperate he looked. At the very least, he knew how silly, pathetic and desperate he _felt_. He really should just come to terms with the idea that she wasn't coming and he would spend the last night of his life alone, in pain and pining for a woman who didn't want him.

Why did he even send her a box anyway? She wanted nothing to do with him, remember? She'd probably set it on fire and deliver it to his underground doorstep without so much as a second thought.

God, he was miserable! Nothing would make him feel better, but those dominos proved to be a nice (temporary) distraction.

It had been interesting watching the dominos fall to reveal his name. It was really quite lovely. Music in visual form, the unrolling of the red carpet – something suitably dramatic like that. And suddenly, the act of setting up and knocking down domino sculptures didn't seem quite so pointless after all.

But he had not planned on that single domino to be standing at the end.

A single domino.

Again.

That was quite a common occurrence lately, wasn't it?

If he was the single domino that set off the chain that destroyed Norsefire, what was the single domino still standing at the end?

Was it Evey? He had no doubt she could survive this revolution.

Or perhaps it was him. Certainly he would leave a legacy, but what kind would depend entirely on who was successful in the revolution. Without a doubt the people would hail him as a hero. Also without a doubt, Norsefire would paint him a villain of the grandest kind. He dearly wished that would not happen. However, if that was the case, he hoped he would live on in the hearts of the people and inspire someone else to rise up and defeat Norsefire once and for all.

Dear God. Perhaps the single domino standing was still Norsefire. Perhaps all his efforts would be for naught.

He was determined not to fail, however. Success was not optional; there could be only victory. The idea of failure and the subsequent Norsefire reactions filled him with unmitigated horror (and it took quite a lot to inspire horror in V).

But if V did not believe in coincidences, then why this single, standing domino?

The question would plague him, and so would the fact that he would never know the answer.

* * *

**Authoress's note:** Once again, the language of flowers information comes from the Wikipedia article "Language of flowers." I also picture Evey's apartment building laid out almost like a hotel (center lobby with rooms around the perimeter), which is why she was able to see both the floor above and the floor below hers.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: The authoress does not own V, Evey, _V for Vendetta_ or anything that is the property of someone else. She is also not profiting monetarily from the creation of this story. The lines and events from the movie appearing in this chapter are taken from the movie itself and NOT the creation or property of the author. Any similarity to any story posted on this site or any other is pure coincidence. Please contact me if there is an issue. The author promises to return Evey and V back to their respective locations when she is done playing with them.

**My eternal thanks to Krystal James and Rosethorn/Everybodylovesme15 for their kind reviews!**

**This chapter is dedicated to anyone who has read, favorited, followed/alerted and especially those who have reviewed! Hats off! Thank you so much! You are great!**

**Please be sure to read the second authoress's note at the end of the chapter!**

* * *

November the 4th.

The whole country seemed to be holding its breath. Tensions were high. The streets were overrun with police and military and few dared step out their doors. Those brave (foolish?) souls who did risked being black bagged and thrown into the back of a truck, merely for being outside. Everyone was suspicious of everyone and the fear was palpable in every molecule of everything.

At least, that's how it seemed to Evey. She could have been imagining it, but she didn't think so. She noticed that everywhere she went, everyone glanced around a little more, scurried a little faster and looked even more frightened than usual.

Nobody dared admit it, but all wondered if they would have the courage to don those costumes and storm Parliament as V had called for. If they did it, what would happen? Would they be the only one?

What if the revolution failed?

Evey shuddered. She did not want to imagine the horrors that would follow if that was the case.

It was a great comfort knowing that she would see V tonight. She had to admit, however, that she was nervous about how that would go. Would V banish her from his Gallery? She didn't think so, but V wasn't exactly the most predictable of fellows. He seemed to thrive on surprise (good or bad) and drama (good or bad), and he really was quite good at both.

Yes, she would see V tonight, but she hadn't decided when she was going to go. She wasn't even sure what she would do when she got there. Did she want to discuss his revolution? No, not really. And she didn't want to pick up a book of Shakespeare (what a stupid thing to do on this night, anyway!) and she didn't want to turn into a sobbing, emotional mess (even though she knew she probably would).

In truth, Evey really didn't know exactly what she would do. She just knew she wanted to be back with V where she belonged.

* * *

V paced the length of his home for what must have been the thousandth time in ten minutes. He was a patient man but all the waiting, waiting, waiting was starting to take its toll. He had never thought that the waiting – the epitome of the clichéd calm before the storm – would be the hardest part.

But it wasn't his revolution he was waiting on.

It was his Evey.

Except she wasn't his Evey. Not now, anyway, and probably not ever.

He did not believe she would be coming tonight. He honestly believed he'd never see her again. Grief and sorrow welled up inside him and he squashed it down one more time. It was already late in the afternoon and Evey hadn't made an appearance; he should just get used to the fact that he would spend his last night without her. He might as well content himself with the knowledge that he would live on in the hearts of the English people as a beacon of revolution.

But what if that wasn't what he wanted?

This was insane.

Of course that was what he wanted. Actually, all V had _ever_ wanted was to free this country from the grip of Norsefire (okay, and justified revenge), and tonight he would get his wish. He had no right – or need – to wish for anything else. All was coming together exactly as he had planned. He should be pleased, and indeed he was.

However…the main point of his plan still rested on Evey. He needed her to send the train rumbling down the tracks toward Parliament.

This had not been his original plan. But he had realized many months ago that after tonight, he would be no more. Because of that, what right had he to determine the course of a world he would not exist in? It was ludicrous of him to think he could. He trusted no one but Evey to make the decision that would change the course of history. Only she would make the right choice – whatever it was.

But the thought still nagged – what if she didn't come? He could not fail the English people. He wouldn't. V being V, he _did_ have a contingency plan. His designated meeting place with Creedy was close enough to his train that if anything went awry, he could still make his way back to his train and pull the lever – he hoped.

Hope, hope, hope.

How could he give so much hope to the masses when he had so very little left for himself?

* * *

(7:00 p.m.)

The waiting was agonizing.

There really was no reason to wait. Evey could go down to the Gallery any time she pleased. And right now, she pleased. So what was stopping her?

Perhaps it was the knot of dread Evey had felt growing in the pit of her stomach the last few days, although Evey couldn't have told you what it was she was dreading. She just had this feeling that the night would not turn out in the way she had hoped and did not want to confront the moment when any number of things that had played out in her nightmares became a reality. How could she possibly survive a night full of horrors?

Why, exactly, was she waiting? The question was killing her. Finally Evey decided she could wait no more. Flinging on the outfit nearest to her hand, hardly knowing what she was putting on and not caring whether it matched or not, she practically flew out the door, down the stairs and into the tense London streets to make her way back to V.

* * *

V's heavy sigh seemed to resonate throughout the Gallery. The only thing that brought him peace was the quiet in Evey's (former) room. He had pulled a stool from the corner to her bedside and simply sat, keeping vigil over the neatly pressed and made (but empty) bed.

This is where he would wait until it was time to leave. In here, the stifling, thunderous silence and burdensome, cavernous emptiness of the Gallery could be ignored just a little bit more easily.

Deeply troubled – that's what V was. What would happen if she didn't come? He needed her. He needed her, and not just for his revolution. _He needed her_ – for _him_. Her company, her voice, her brilliant mind and sharp wit, even her cynicism – he absolutely adored it all. And he wanted to experience all of them again tonight.

V wasn't even sure he would have the ability to go through with his plans if he saw Evey. Even the very thought of her melted his resolve. If there could be a way for his revolution to survive as well as him, would he take the opportunity? At this moment, he didn't know, could not have answered that question to…well, quite literally, to save his life.

Come to think of it, the thought of Evey very nearly made him forget what his plans _were_.

He sighed once again. He was…tired. Weary. Ready for everything to be over, and yet dreading its beginning. Tired of the ghosts and demons dancing in the shadows of his brain and wishing desperately for something – _anything _– that would chase them away.

Perhaps a song…?

Perhaps the song currently coming from…the living room?

Slowly, V rose from the stool and made his way down the hallway. As he did, the music gradually became louder and Julie London's soulful voice filled the air. He pushed the door open, hoping beyond hope as he rounded the corner…

And saw one Evey Hammond standing at the jukebox.

"I missed this song."

**Authoress's Note**: In case you didn't quite catch it (which I'm sure you did, because you're all smart people!), the song to which I am referring (and the one Evey chooses in this scene) is Julie London's "Cry Me a River."

**Authoress's Note Part 2: **You, dear reader, have a decision to make! You may stop reading here if you like and assume the rest of the story plays out as per the movie, OR you can hang in there with me because I WILL be writing an AU ending to the movie and this story and it WILL be posted as part of this story. I'm not sure how many chapters it will be yet, but it looks to be about two chapters long. I may also change the rating of the story from K+ to T due to the content of those chapters.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** The authoress does not own Evey, V, _V for Vendetta_ or anything else that is the property of someone else. Parts of this chapter, in dialogue and in character action, are transcribed directly from the movie itself and are not the property or creation of the authoress. No copyright infringement is intended. Please don't sue! Any similarity to any other story on this site or any other is pure coincidence. Please contact me should an issue arise.

**This chapter is dedicated to my dear Krystal Jaymes. Thank you so much for your kind words, your conversation and your encouragement, both in all chapters and in writing this AU ending. This chapter would not exist without your encouragement and I hope it does not disappoint! -****HUGE HUGS!-**

**Thank you also to everyone who has read, followed or favorited and special thanks to those who have reviewed. This was my first story and you made it amazing!**

**Authoress's Note: **This chapter is a bit longer than the others. If this is a problem, I do apologize. The Muses just wouldn't let me quit. I also apologize if my emotional bits are cheesy. I tried not to slather them in Velveeta. This is the next-to-last chapter in our story following Evey and V and part 1 of my AU ending. Obligatory movie angst ahead.

**Authoress's Note #2: **The chapter will pick up at the point where V is leading Evey to his train right before he leaves to confront Sutler and Creedy. Assume the events between the end of the last chapter and the beginning of this one are as per the movie. A few parts of this chapter are transcribed directly from the movie. For this, I do apologize, but we can't get from point A to point C unless we pass through point B.

* * *

"Be sad. Be angry. Let your heart break – in the diner, on someone's futon, in the park, on the way to the zoo, at brunch, over drinks, in the therapist's office, on the bus – Wherever it breaks, let it break all the way open, let it run out and down and spread out in a soggy puddle at your feet." ~ Unknown

* * *

V led Evey out of the Gallery, down a pitch-black tunnel and 'round a corner. Where on Earth was V going? In an effort to calm her nerves and glean a little information for herself, she spoke.

"V? May I ask you a question?"

"Your inquiries are always most welcome, Evey, on any subject you may think of. I hope you know that by now, though if you do not it is most certainly my fault," he responded.

Evey was quiet for a moment before saying, "The boxes you sent with the costumes in them – there was a flower in mine. I looked it up because I didn't know what it was. It meant something, too – an invitation to dance. What did you mean by that?"

V chuckled. "Evey, I meant exactly that. The flower was an invitation to dance with me on the eve of my revolution, exactly as you did tonight. Then, as tonight, I was hoping you would accept my invitation."

"Are you glad I did? Are you glad I came?" Evey asked.

V stopped walking and gently grabbed her arm, turning her toward him as he said, "Evey Hammond, do you even need to ask?"

Slowly, she shook her head. "No, V, I don't think I do."

"Good," he said before letting go of her arm and resuming their walk.

Rounding the corner, Evey couldn't believe her eyes.

"The Underground?" she asked. "I thought they closed this all down."

"They did. It took nearly 10 years to clear the tracks and lay a bit of my own. Let me show you." V lightly placed his hand on her back and steered her toward the train.

Panic welled up in Evey as she looked through the windows. Stunned at the sheer explosive power of the train, she could not think of what to say for a moment.

A realization dawned. "These tracks lead to Parliament."

"Yes."

"Then it's really going to happen, isn't it?" she asked.

"It will if _you_ want it to," he said carefully.

Evey was confused. "What?"

"This is my gift to you, Evey: everything I have. My home, my books, the Gallery – this train. I'm leaving it to you to do with what you will."

"Is this another trick, V?" she asked, looking annoyed.

"No, no more tricks, no more lies. Only truth. And the truth is you made me understand that I was wrong, that the choice to pull this lever is not mine to make," he said.

She was still confused. "Why?" she asked.

V answered with all the tenderness he could muster. "Because this world, the one that I'm a part of and the one that I helped shape, will end tonight, and tomorrow, a different world will begin that different people will shape, and this choice belongs to them."

V backed away and began to leave.

"Where are you going?" Evey asked, voice full of concern.

V turned around. "The time has come for me to meet my Maker and repay him in kind for all that he's done." With a curt nod, he spun around again and began to march away.

Frantic, Evey ran after him, calling, "V! Wait! Please! You don't have to do this! You could let it go! We could leave here together!"

She stopped short in her tracks, taken aback by her own words. What had she just said?

Time slowed for Evey as she waited for V's response. In this moment, she could deny her feelings no longer.

She loved V.

She, Evey Hammond, loved him, V.

And she desperately hoped she loved him back.

And as much as time froze for Evey, it froze even more for V.

His breath caught in his throat as he listened to her pleas. Oh, how he wanted to listen to them! Oh, how he wanted to fulfill them!

Oh, how he loved her! With every part of his being, he loved her!

But oh, how undeserving he was of her love!

"No. You were right about what I am. I have no tree waiting for me. All I want-" (how he lied!) "-all I deserve-" (but how he believed this!) "-is at the end of that tunnel," he answered, heart bursting with grief and shame.

Tears welled up in Evey's eyes as she listened to his lamentations. Her dread had been justified. She should have known. Why had it never occurred to her that V would not survive this night? Or perhaps it had, and she had blatantly refused to acknowledge that possibility, preferring to bury it deep within her nightmares.

"That's not true," she insisted.

And before she knew what she was doing, before she could stop herself, she drew the masked man closer and pressed a soft kiss to his metal lips. She tried, with all her might, to convince him to stay, to convince him that she loved him, to convince him of _anything_, except following through with this seeming death sentence.

Her emotions were plain in her face as she pulled away, running her hands through his hair and down his chest. Had she succeeded?

V's knees weakened and his resolve crumbled as he ran his hands over her waist, her hips, her arms, and finally took her hands.

He wanted to stay.

"I can't," he said, corralling the last of his resolve and striding away through the tunnels.

Shocked, Evey watched him go.

He hadn't stayed?

_He hadn't stayed?_

She couldn't believe he hadn't stayed! She watched him go and still couldn't believe it! Evey want to kick and scream and run after him, but her feet were frozen to the concrete floor.

Why hadn't he stayed?

What had she done to make him refuse? And could she have done anything to make him change his mind?

Evey didn't think so. In her time around V, she had grown to understand that once he was determined to do something, he would do it no matter what the cost. Nothing could shake him, not even her.

Slowly, Evey turned around and staggered to the bench against the wall. She couldn't make herself understand what had just happened. Her breath came faster and faster and the tears spilled over and she began to sob.

Mere paces away on the other side of the train, V's heart shattered at the sound of Evey's wails and he began to weep. How could he do this to her? She had admitted she loved him! Hadn't he been dreaming about that? With the dream now a reality, what was the point of continuing on this path?

Because he had to.

He had to see this revolution through. He had to make this happen, make this world better for the people who would come. Never again would they live in terror and never again would families be ripped apart by their government. It would be selfish to sacrifice an entire nation of people for just one person. He wished he could make Evey understand this.

He could only hope he survived the night. Perhaps this flimsy metal armor, kindly borrowed from his fat metal friend, would give him a fighting chance. But if it didn't, he knew Evey would survive. That, in addition to his need to try and turn this country around again, was what made him leave her there on the platform moments ago.

And it was what would make him leave her again now.

* * *

How much time had passed? Evey didn't know. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, her face was clammy and her hands were bloody from her slamming them into the wall, the bench, the floor, overcome with emotion.

She had no idea if she was going to send this train or not. She knew how strongly V felt about this revolution (as well he should), but frankly, she didn't give a damn about it anymore. She just wanted him back.

* * *

The pain was agonizing. V had been wholly prepared for the many, many bullets coming his way, but that didn't change the fact that he felt where – and when – they pierced his flesh.

He had to get back to Evey.

The armor that he hoped would save his life was now quickly draining his strength. It wasn't heavy, but it was far too much strain for his damaged body to take. Stripping it off (Evey didn't need to see it anyway), he dropped it to the ground before stumbling back to where he hoped she would be.

He was in luck. She ran to catch him as he staggered down the stairs.

"V!"

She helped him to the ground.

"Oh, God! V! We have to stop your bleeding!"

V was pleased she would even think such a thing with him being in this condition, but he knew it was too late.

"Oh, please, don't. I'm finished, and glad of it," he said hoarsely.

"DON'T SAY THAT!" Evey's shout resonated throughout the tunnel.

V struggled to catch his breath. Perhaps it was too late for them, but it wasn't too late for truth.

"I told you, only truth," he began. "For 20 years, I sought only this day. Nothing else existed…until I saw you. Then everything changed. I fell in love with you, Evey, like I no longer believed I could."

His head began to loll and Evey could feel the strength leaving his body as she pled, "Don't die, V! I don't want you to die!"

Drawing his final breath, he managed to say, "That's the most beautiful thing you could have ever given me."

And then he went limp.

Evey's panic turned into hysteria. "V? V! Please don't die! You can't die! I don't want you to die! YOU WON'T DIE!"

What could she do, what could she do, what could she do?

The Gallery.

She had to get to the Gallery.

She knew there were medical supplies in his bedroom; he'd even used them to bandage her up on occasion. But it wouldn't do any good for _her_ to go _there_ while _he_ was _here._

With a strength Evey didn't know she had, she began dragging V back to the Gallery. She hated dragging him, but he was far too heavy for her to carry and she had no other means to transport him.

The blood. Oh, God, the blood! There was so much of it!

If he survived, if she could ever leave his side again, she would clean this mess up.

A mix of hysterical sobbing and laughter bubbled up from Evey's throat. What was wrong with her? She was worrying about the damned blood on the pavement when the man she loved was…no, he wasn't gone. She would not say he was gone because he wasn't. She'd be damned if he was gone.

Somehow, she made it back to the main room of the Gallery. Shoving the piano aside, she laid V on the rug and ran to his bedroom. Thank Heaven V was much more organized than she would ever be and she was able to find all the medical supplies she could ever want. Racing back to the living room, she hesitated when she arrived back at V's side. She needed to strip him of his clothes, but how would he feel about that? He hadn't even let her take off his _mask _and now she would be taking off his _clothes_. Clothes covered much more than a mask did and she sensed he was self-conscious about his scars from the fire. In some way, she felt she really had no right to do that without his permission and she knew he would be angry with her once he wakened.

But she wasn't going to let that stop her.

V's shredded clothes, pitted mask and disheveled wig landed in a pile on the stone floor as Evey set about cleaning him up and patching his wounds. Fighting back more tears, she struggled to bring V back to life. More than once, she threw something across the room with a scream of frustration, only to have to go and fetch it again. How she wished she could take him somewhere, _anywhere_, where a medical professional could help them! Alas, though – she was his doctor, nurse and surgeon, and she had something nobody else did – her love for him. She prayed it was enough.


	10. Chapter 10

**The authoress does not own V, Evey, **_**V for Vendetta**_** or anything else that is the property of someone else. She is not profiting monetarily from the creation of this story, although it would be great if she was because she just paid her tuition bill last week (eek!). Any similarity to any other story, on this site or any other, is pure coincidence. Please contact me should an incident arise.**

**My eternal gratitude to firefly, Everybodylovesme15 and Krystal Jaymes for their kind reviews and to Krystal Jaymes for the advice! Thank you to all of you who have stuck with me throughout this story – you are amazing! I hope this ending does not disappoint.**

**Authoress's note: Again, this chapter will be long. Again, I do apologize. Again, the Muses wouldn't shut up.**

* * *

Evey herself had no sense of time. Moments blended together into hours, days…weeks? Maybe? The only way Evey knew how much time had passed was the date on the bottom of the television screen.

The BTN reports were horrifying. If Evey had thought the violence had been bad before the fifth, she was sadly mistaken. Those riots had been arm-wrestling matches compared to what was now taking place on the streets of London. In the two weeks since the fall of Parliament, nearly 1,000 people had lost their lives in the fighting. Bits of bodies and dried blood decorated the streets and sidewalks, reminders (and remainders) of the bombings. Norsefire tanks, artillery and aircraft were everywhere; the rebels had managed to seize a few and now nobody knew who was friend and who was foe. The chaos and confusion was mind-boggling.

Beneath the streets in the Gallery, it was a different story. Evey could occasionally hear the chaos of the streets above, although it was deeply muffled by layers of concrete. That suited her fine; she appreciated the near-silence. Noise was offensive and a reminder that life – and London – was getting on without her.

She knew she should be more affected by the happenings on the surface and was deeply ashamed that she was not, but if truth be told, Evey cared for nothing at the moment except for V. To her mind, the world above could wait. It would still be there tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow* – that much was guaranteed. As for V, the same could not be said. Day in, day out, Evey did what she could to try to keep him with her, while the monster of doubt lingered in the back of her mind, taunting her – _why was she even trying? She was not a medical professional by any means and she didn't have the skills to save him. Why bother? This was what he wanted, wasn't it?_

Still, despite her doubts and after agonizing days of hoping, V grew a breath stronger, then another, then another, then another. He did not seem to be terribly coherent, although his reflexes were the first things to sharpen. He would flinch away from her ministrations, as though he was in pain (_well, of course he was!_ thought Evey). With V's strengthening, Evey had to admit she grew ever more nervous of the moment he would finally awaken. What would he say to her? Would he be angry? Would he throw her out of his home and on to the streets to fend for herself? Those questions and more tumbled through Evey's head as she watched V grow stronger and stronger.

During the first days of his treatment, Evey had left off his clothes, mask and wig, deeming it unnecessary and a waste of time and effort to put them on and take them off over and over, given the number of times she was dressing his wounds. As V healed, though, Evey began to dress him again after tending to his injuries, just in case he should wake. She did not want him to be any more startled than necessary and she hoped that by dressing him she could mitigate his potential shock at the knowledge that Evey had seen him undressed.

Evey was unsure if her strategy would be successful and she spent many an hour pacing the gallery floor, as though all the answers would come to her if she simply walked long enough. Walking did answer one question one morning when Evey crawled out of bed and into the living room to find V fully dressed (thanks to her) and sitting up on the couch, slowly flexing and rolling each joint to test its mobility and moaning in pain when his body protested. Not that Evey enjoyed seeing him in pain – quite the opposite. She hated to see him suffer, but was relieved he was awake and coherent enough to recognize and attempt to control his damaged body.

"V?" she asked softly as she padded through the doorway, stopping several paces inside the door.

V did not speak but merely inclined his head in her direction in silent greeting, continuing his joint rolls and bends.

Evey took a few more tentative steps closer. "V?" she tried again. "Are you alright? How do you feel?"

V was silent for several heartbeats before speaking. "I suppose I am as well as can be expected, given my set of…peculiar…circumstances," he said flatly, still moving.

"Peculiar circumstances? That's all you can think to call this?" Evey was flabbergasted.

"Do you have any better ideas as to a name, considering all that has happened?" Without waiting for an answer, V continued, tone sharp and bitter this time. "I can think of no better phrase. Do you know how many bullets I was shot with, Evey?" He paused, turning in her direction and finally stopping his movement.

Evey shook her head. "No, V. I didn't count when I took them out."

V responded, "Perhaps you did not count them as they exited my person, but I counted as they entered it. There were – "

"Shut up, V! I don't want to know!" Evey's shout echoed through the Gallery.

Again, V nodded in her direction. "As you wish," he said, turning away and holding his hands up to watch his fingers flex.

Striding toward him, Evey yanked his hand away from his face so he could see her and snapped, "What is wrong with you, V?"

"There is quite a lot wrong with me, Evey," V snapped in return. "For starters, this body of mine in its sorry state. You seem to be familiar with this, although I cannot say I am pleased with how."

Evey cut him off. "Yes, you are not in the best of shape, but you are alive, V! Aren't you happy for that? And yes, V, I am well familiar with your body now and I am sorry that displeases you. But surely you are smart enough to understand that it is through that familiarity that you live and breathe. You're welcome."

With that, Evey turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.

* * *

They did not speak to each other again until evening when it was time to change V's numerous bandages. When Evey returned to the living room, fresh dressings in hand, she was surprised (although she shouldn't have been) to see V gone. A glance down the hallway revealed his bedroom door to be cracked. Evey tiptoed down the hall, peeked through the door and saw V struggling to wrap a bandage around an arm. Evey pushed the slightly squeaky door open and said, "Let me do that for you."

"No," V said bitterly.

"V, you're struggling. You need help. Let me do that for you," Evey repeated.

With a speed and strength Evey did not know he possessed, V leapt over the bed, shoved Evey out into the hallway and slammed the door.

* * *

More than once throughout the night, Evey had knocked on V's locked door and called his name, wanting to know if he was alright or needed help. Finally, at daybreak a very angry Evey Hammond had had enough. Storming down the hallway, she was prepared to use any means necessary to open that door, down to breaking through it with any of the numerous large and heavy objects scattered throughout the Gallery (perhaps that statue she hated?).

That wouldn't be necessary, however. As Evey rounded the corner, the door was open and she could see V sitting up in bed, undressed save for his bandages, arms around his legs and forehead resting on his knees. Evey, completely disarmed by this sight, forgot her anger and raced across the room to where he sat.

"V? V? What is it? What's wrong? Talk to me!" she demanded.

V sat motionless and Evey thought he hadn't heard her. She opened her mouth to speak again when he looked up with a pained expression and asked, "Why did you do it, Evey? Why did you bring me here instead of loading me onto my train?"

Evey froze, momentarily stunned by his question, before returning, "V, why do you ask this question? Do you truly not know the answer, truly? I brought you back here because I love you. I love you and I wanted you alive and with me."

V looked away. "That is selfish, Evey."

"Yes, it is," she countered, "but I don't care. I think I can afford to be selfish. You didn't need to die for your revolution, V. I hope you know that. And I meant every word I said to you on the platform that night. I didn't want you to go, not away from the tunnels nor away from me. I love you, V."

V's forehead returned to his knees as Evey spoke. Both were silent for a long time before Evey asked, "That's not what's bothering you, is it, V?" At that question, V flinched and shrank back, as if to protect himself from…what?

"V? Talk to me? Please?" Evey pleaded softly. "I don't know what's wrong and I can't help you if you won't tell me. Is it me? What did I do?"

Almost inaudibly, V spoke. "It is both you and me, Evey. I am upset about both of us."

Evey was confused. "What?"

V drew the blankets further over himself before answering, "There was a reason I did not want you to see my face, Evey. There was a reason I did not allow you to remove the mask that night. Seeing me as you have, as you do now, surely you understand why. 'I have no right to beauty. I have been condemned to masculine ugliness.'** But I also meant what I said before. This face is not my hands; these hands are not my hands. This body is not mine. It is someone else's, and I have merely borrowed it for awhile."

Evey shook her head, a bit surprised by V's vanity. "I cannot help with you with that feeling of disconnect, V. But you must understand that I am not offended by the way you look. If I was, I wouldn't be here." She paused, knowing she needed to phrase her next words very carefully. "You are different, yes. You think you are ugly. But 'beauty can be coaxed out of ugliness.'"*** Again, Evey paused, waiting for a reaction. She received none, and so continued, "'Beauty? To me it is a word without sense because I do not know where its meaning comes from, nor where it leads to.'"****

Finally, an answer from V. "Dr. SunWolf and Picasso. I see you have been reading."

"Yes, V, I have. But don't change the subject. I wasn't finished. V, no matter what you may think, seeing you hasn't changed a thing. I still love you and I do not see you as you see yourself. I understand that now, and I hope you understand it, too." Without waiting for a response, Evey said, "Now, will you let me change your bandages?"

Slowly, V held out an arm and nodded.

* * *

The frigid tension between Evey and V began to thaw, though not quickly enough for Evey. She genuinely tried to understand V's point of view, though she still had a bit of difficulty understanding his reluctance in allowing her to see him. For lack of a better phrase, the damage was already done. Evey could not unsee what she had already seen, although she was certain V wished she could.

In this, she was absolutely correct – V _did_ wish he could make her forget what that damaged body looked like, though he also knew that was impossible. Part of his discomfort stemmed from the fact that he much preferred to see _himself_ clad in black fabric and a Guy Fawkes mask. To his mind, _that_ was what he looked like. _That_ was his body. The ruined shell underneath was merely a mannequin, a form, for the clothes that covered him, much as the skin is a covering for the bones underneath. Such a disconnect was difficult to reconcile and his injuries only heightened that difficulty because it was the mannequin that was damaged, not V. But if it was only the mannequin that was damaged, and not V himself, then why V's discomfort in letting Evey see? The cycle of questions was endless, self-defeating, and got V absolutely nowhere. He turned over the same questions in his mind day after day, and each question he asked led back to one he had asked before and been unable to answer.

It was infuriating.

V attempted to turn his mind to other things, with mixed results. Instead of trying to solve the problem of why he did not wish to be seen, he decided to try and figure out what to do about it now that such an incident had occurred. The obvious solution, and the one he was most comfortable with, was nothing at all and to simply let things be as they would. Perhaps that was the coward's way out, but for the moment it was simply the solution V could tolerate the best.

The pair settled into a routine – wake, tend to V, breakfast, the BTN or the Internet, lunch, more BTN or Internet, dinner, evening, tend to V, bed. The evenings were what Evey found most enjoyable. It was then that they silenced the television, switched off the computer and simply enjoyed each other's company. Sometimes that entailed each quietly reading a chosen book or debating a scholarly article. Lately, Evey had managed to pull V out of his shell enough to get him to teach her how to play chess – he the black pieces and she the white. During these evenings as V taught her a bit about strategy, Evey began to understand more how V's mind worked, why he did the things that he did. Of course she knew by now that her initial opinion of him – that he was a madman – was wrong, but she hadn't realized exactly how wrong until he began to teach her how to think several steps ahead of your opponent and deceive and manipulate him into doing what you wanted him to do. That's what V had been doing. Sutler had been V's puppet throughout the entire year prior to the fall of Parliament, though he hadn't known.

It was also during these evenings that V learned more about Evey, as well. He had already known she was a closeted intellectual (dangerous under Sutler's regime) and her first stay in his home had awakened a dormant love of learning, but he hadn't realized how deep that love ran until now. She soaked up everything she possibly could – art, music, history, politics, literature – especially literature. In spirit, there was a small corner of her that was still about seven years old and enjoyed silly games, fancy dolls, and those ancient Disney princess movies. While he did not share her enthusiasm of such subjects, V was glad to see that years under Norsefire hadn't completely killed her spirit like it had under so many of their fellow countrymen.

As V improved, the situation in London did as well. The violence in the streets slowly diminished and the gruesome messes were cleaned up. While she still wasn't entirely safe in the streets, Evey could now leave the Gallery if she so desired (V practically _threw_ her out one afternoon in an attempt to prove he could care for himself) without fear of being blown to bits. Increasingly, Evey and V's evening conversations turned to the future of the country. They debated the merits and drawbacks of each party, person or figure trying to take over in the power vacuum left by Norsefire's fall. They both agreed that their greatest concern was the installment of a government that would use the chaos in the country to establish a Norsefire-like dictatorship, and if V's research was correct, more than one candidate for power had such a motive. Neither Evey nor V had a solution for if one of those parties took power because, as V put it, all of London believed their revolutionary hero dead and he didn't think he could possibly lead another revolt in such a state. Evey's response was that he could, in fact, lead another overthrow and model himself after the mythical phoenix, to which she received only a scoff.

Evey found a possible solution to the problem one afternoon about town, though she was unsure if it really was possible, probable, or even a good idea, and so decided to discuss the matter with V.

Evey's silence after dinner was V's first sign that something was amiss. It made him uneasy because he knew Evey's intuition and perception were sharp, so if she believed there was a problem there almost assuredly was.

"Evey?" V asked after noticing Evey drying the same dinner plate for the third time. He received no response, and so tried again. "Evey!"

"Oh!" Evey started, dropping the plate. V suddenly appeared at her side, catching the plate before it shattered on the floor. "I'm sorry, V."

"Such an apology is quite unnecessary, my Evey. But I must ask, what is it that has occupied you so?" he responded.

Evey was quiet, drying another dish and placing it in the rack. She seemed to think for a moment before answering, "I had a rather…interesting…conversation today and I don't know what to make of it. I was wondering if maybe you would."

"I shall try my best," V promised with a small bow.

Evey put the dishtowel in her hand down and leaned against the cabinet. "I know we've talked at great length about the different factions trying to take power right now. The political arena is so chaotic it hurts your head to think about it. There are so many possible solutions, yet no one consensus on who would be best." Evey paused, chewing on her lip for a moment before continuing, "But there is one person that seems to be gaining popularity. I'm not sure if they're the best solution since they have next to no political experience or know-how, but they seem to be the most liked."

"Who is this person?" V asked.

"Me." Evey said simply.

"You are brilliant in many aspects, my dear, but I'm afraid I don't quite follow. To what, or whom, do I – we – owe this idea?" V asked.

Evey explained. "I was approached in the park today by a crowd asking that I make a run for the new…High Chancellor, Prime Minister, whatever you call it. The new political system is so rudimentary that nobody has a proper title or procedure for anything. Anyway, they think that since I got swept up in your revolution that I'd be the best person for the new job. But I don't know, V! I've got no head for politics – I never have. I don't understand the ins and outs of running a country and I don't even know where to start. What if I make a mistake? Politics, foreign relations, economics…I just don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I _want_ to do it."

"Wanting to and being able to are two very different things, Evey," V said. "Whether you _want_ to or not, that is something only you can decide. However, I must disagree with you and say you are more than capable of taking the position. Perhaps you don't have the knowledge of politics that some of your hypothetical opponents have, but you are not lacking in common sense or the desire to learn. You may consider it unfortunate to be thrown headfirst into government, where there is the very real potential for mistakes with massive repercussions – "

Evey interrupted. "You're not helping me with that statement, V."

V smiled gently behind the mask (Evey couldn't see it, but he hoped she could feel it) and continued, "Evey, you will most certainly make mistakes. All politicians do. But as I have already said, I believe you would be able to handle it. In fact, I would be most delighted if you would take the position, but please, do not do it just to suit me. You must do what you feel is best for you and best for this country."

Evey made a face and said sarcastically, "Best for the country? No pressure, V. Thanks a lot."

"You are most welcome, Evey," he said with a chuckle. "But please, do not immediately write yourself off due to your perceived inadequacies."

* * *

Evey chose to follow V's advice, but in her own fashion. Carefully, she researched each candidate until she found the one she thought to be the best before publicly endorsing her. Several months later, Evey's chosen candidate won a rather chaotic and fragmented election and immediately offered Evey a position in the new government. While Evey still had absolutely no desire to be the main political figurehead, she would gladly take a back seat to someone who actually knew what she were doing. Besides, as the leader of the new England, Evey would have little to no time to spend with V, but in her new position she was guaranteed plenty of time to spend in any manner she wished – and she wished to spend nearly all of it with V.

One Sunday afternoon after a particularly long game of chess, Evey sat back in her chair and sighed.

"You'll need to get back home soon, Evey. You have several meetings lined up for tomorrow and you'll need to prepare for them," V reminded her gently.

Evey was silent for a moment before responding, "Actually, V, I have everything I need for tomorrow all ready down here. Can't I just stay here for the night?"

V was a little taken aback. "Of course, Evey. And when morning breaks, should you find you have forgotten something, it will be my greatest pleasure to fetch it for you."

Again, Evey was silent for a moment before saying, "You know how much stuff I've brought down here the last couple of weeks, V. Boxes of my things are everywhere. There's a reason for that." She paused nervously.

"And what is the reason for that, love?" V asked.

Evey chewed her lip for a moment before answering. "I've gotten rid of my apartment. I've been spending so much time here that it just doesn't pay off to keep it. I don't like it anymore, anyway. Too many bad memories and things I would rather forget. It's not like here. Here I have…well, you. You and everything I could every want. Actually, you _are_ everything I could ever want. I was hoping you'd let me stay here. 'Stay' as in 'move in.' But if you don't want me to, that's okay. There's a little place a couple of blocks away I saw last week that would do me just fine. But I'd rather be here. If that's okay."

The width of V's grin matched the grin on the Guy Fawkes mask. "Why, yes, Evey. You may stay here for as long as you want."

~FIN~

**Authoress's note:** Well, there it is! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! A _V for Vendetta_ one-shot will be posted in the coming days!

**Quote credits:**

*"tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow" – _Macbeth_, Act 5 Scene 5, line 19

**"I have no right to beauty. I have been condemned to masculine ugliness." – Renee Vivien

***"Beauty can be coaxed out of ugliness." – Dr. SunWolf

****"Beauty? To me it is a word without sense because I do not know where its meaning comes from, nor where it leads to." – Pablo Picasso


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